


Pokemon and Antiseptic.

by myrtleandmercury



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe, Childhood Friends, Gangs, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Larry is a dick, M/M, Violence, also he needs a scarier name, and no-one can take this away from me, jared and evan are best bros, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 15:06:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16452200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrtleandmercury/pseuds/myrtleandmercury
Summary: " Evan blinks in surprise at the sudden shift in Connor’s character, as if someone’s flicked a switch on his back. He wonders how often Connor shows this side of himself, and whether he’ll change in the future to get rid of it fully.". Or, Connor and Evan meet under pokemon and tutor lessons, and fall in love on top of sofa cushions and bruises.





	Pokemon and Antiseptic.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in like five hours total and I'm still somehow kinda proud of it! Please enjoy ~

“This is possibly the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, Evan Hansen. And I've seen you fall from a 12ft high tree because you saw, and I quote, ‘an interestingly shaped leaf’”.

Jared is perched on the edge of Evan's teal striped bed, slowly sucking on a raspberry lollipop and watching as Evan meticulously combs through his sandy hair. His eyes are grey and narrowed, eyebrows slightly furrowed as if in disbelief at Evan’s decision. Evan feels familiar snakes squirm around his abdomen, squeezing his stomach as he avoids his friend’s steel gaze in the mirror. He straightens the collar of his white polo shirt and checks himself once more in the dusty mirror before turning around and grinning at his friend, although he can feel how fake and plastic the smile is on his own face.

“I-I’ll be alright.”, Evan cringes as his friend’s eyebrows raise, cursing his nervous stutter.

“Evan, you don't have to do this”, Jared’s voice drops down to a rare gentleness, usually reserved for serious conversations or panic episodes. Evan feels the guilt well up in his mind, like a teardrop on the worlds biggest leaf. “You can just say no.”

But he’s wrong, and they both know it. Even though they’re just teenagers (if even that, Evan only turned 15 last month, and Jared is even younger.) no-one says no to Larry Murphy. He’s the stereotypical CEO villain, a stoic figure with sharpened features and cloudy eyes that make you feel as though he could see all your past mistakes and flaws, like he was sizing you up to check your worth, if you had any. Even if Evan could decline, he would never be able to bring himself to say it.

“I’ll be okay, Jared”.

His friend still looks unconvinced, wringing his hands together slightly. “Just,” he sighs, flopping back on Evan’s bed. “Don't - don’t take anything without me there. You promised I’d be the one to finally get you wasted”.

Evan rolls his eyes fondly, knowing he had never, and never would, promise anything to Jared Kleinman. “I’ll be back later. S-see ya”.

Jared waves a hand weakly in response, already digging out his phone as Evan steps out of their wooden door, wrapping a black coat around himself as he braces himself against the sudden rush of cold air. Tugging harder at the coat to wrap it firmly around his body, he begins the long trek across the broken pavement towards the Murphy household.

……….

The thing is, Evan Hansen, his mother and his best friend’s family all live in a neighbourhood overrun by gangs. There’s the Beck gang on the east side of the neighbourhood, a mostly political group that specialises in vandalism and violent protests, leaving red spray paint and cracked glass on every building. The Murphy gang is almost the opposite, a rookery like group dealing in organized crime. It's mainly the stuff Evan has read about in history classrooms, armed thievery and drug smuggling with the occasional side of alley mugging. While the Becks threaten the residents of the neighbourhood with violence and guns, the Murphys simply terrify the crap out of them.

Evan had been born into the neighbourhood, fatherless and very nearly penniless. His mother was a nurse, the kind of skills that both of the gangs were in deep need of. She’s always rushing back and forth, hardly ever home and if she is, not for a long time. She has always assured him that they were good people, that their little family had stayed there to help them, that they were in no danger. As Evan grew up, he found himself doubting that more and more.

Even though she couldn’t get them out, Heidi had made sure that Evan had a strong education (and as much chance to leave the neighbourhood as possible), and had sent him to a school so far away it felt like it was on the other side of America. He had to take a bus, a train, and then walk 30 minutes to even reach the run-down building. Nonetheless, he tried as hard as he could, and when Larry Murphy had overheard Heidi bragging about his test scores to a patient, he immediately recruited Evan to tutor his kid. Who just happened to be Connor Murphy, vandal, bully, alleged weed addict and possibly the most terrifying fifteen-year old that Evan Hansen had ever met.

So, yeah, his life was going swimmingly.

……….

Evan’s hands were rubbed raw and his breath formed thick clouds of steam in the harsh air by the time he had arrived at the Murphy household. The house itself was an oxymoron to the rest of the rundown neighbourhood, a grey picket fence building with dark windows and a sturdy door. It seemed to be the only building untouched by the Beck clan, standing tall and stationary in the midst of beaten down windows and cracked paint.

Panic seems to seize up his body as freckled hands freeze in their journey towards the steel door, involuntarily tensing his muscles as he struggles to move his wrist. The snakes have moved up towards his chest now, slithering black creatures pushing his ribcage towards his lungs. What is he doing? He can’t tutor this kid! There must have been a mistake, he’s not supposed to be here. What if he got the date wrong? What if Heidi had misheard Larry? Maybe this was all a mistake, and now he’s about to get robbed and beaten up because they’d misunderstood a notorious crime boss and he was never supposed to be-

The door abruptly swings open, a pale face peeking out and glaring at Evan with hallowed eyes. The hood of his cotton jacket is draped over his head, obscuring most of his face and painting the rest in shadows. He’s tall, very tall for their age, his long legs clad in back ripped jeans and his torso in a grey hoodie that looks worn out and stained but still comfortable. 

“Who the fuck are you?” The words leave the boy’s mouth in a dark cloud, biting into Evans soft skin as he flinches at the harsh tone. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth, and he can feel a scarlet blush rush through his cheeks.

“I-I’m E-Evan Hans-en?”, The words come out rushed and blurred together, and Evan’s face shines like a fire alarm.

The boy tilts his head and opens the door microscopically wider, leaning softly against the door frame. His eyes are tinted slightly red, and Evan can't help wondering what he was doing before he arrived.

“So?” 

“Uh-I-I’m here to t-tutor Connor Mur-rphy?”

His face hardens in an instant, and he stands up stoic and straight. 

“No.”

“Uh-I-what?”

He tangles his hand in his hair and signs. “Look, I don't need a fucking tutor if my whole life is set in stone. Now, get lo-”

Larry suddenly appears behind him, emerging from the darkness of the hallway and placing a stone hand on Connor’s cotton shoulder. Evan can see the way the material bunches up beneath his fist, the way Connor’s whole body seems to tense up, and instinctively takes a step back. The man looks angry in a way they only talk about in whispered ghost stories, dark eyes and metal muscles, his body seemingly poised to attack as he glares at his...son? Evan blanches. Oh god, he’s so dead.

“Connor”. The name seems to burn like acid on Larry's tongue, like a bad taste he can't wait to get rid of. Its one word and two syllables, yet it seems to pull Connor like a puppet as he begrudgingly steps aside to let Evan in.

“Fine. But two hours only, and we do what I want us to do.”

Before Larry can open his mouth, Connor has already grabbed onto Evans' wrist, dragging him upstairs roughly. He barely even has time to panic about his dirty shoes on Connors clean white carpet before the boy has slammed to door shut and swings around to face Evan. Evan squeaks involuntarily as Connor looms over him, glowering as he crosses his arms.

“Look”, he snaps, “I’m not here to make friends or talk. So just give me the work and entertain yourself for the hour.”

Oh. He wants some kind of response.

“O-okay”.

…..

Later, when Connor is slouched in a beanbag and chewing on a pencil as he studies Evan’s notes, and all of the lint has been picked off of Evan’s shirt, he busies himself by looking around. The small room was exactly the opposite of what he had been expecting; rather than piles of drugs, money, black paint on the walls and the odd bloodstain, Connors room looked eerily like a hotel room. His belongings were stacked up and sorted away meticulously, walls a stark white and bereft of posters and photos. The bed Evan was warily sitting on had been folded and covered with eggshell linen sheets, the smell of nail polish just a faint whisper in the air. In fact, the only personal possession was the black DS perched on Connor’s unstained oak dressing table, accompanied with a plastic game case, featuring a series of colourful creatures. Wait-was that Pokemon? 

Evan edged closer towards the table slowly, keeping an eye on Connor across the room. He’d been lucky so far, he didn’t want to risk death at the hands of the Murphy’s by being caught snooping. Eyes landed on the case once more, and a soft grin stretched across his face as he recognised the title. Pokemon Moon. Huh. He hadn’t taken Connor for much of a Pokemon fan.

“Do you play?”, The voice startles Evan, almost causing him to roll off the bed in surprise. He feels his face heat up as he sheepishly makes eye contact with a smirking Connor Murphy across the room, rubbing the back of his neck softly.

“Y-yeah. I ha-ad Pokemon S-un though.” Its barely louder than a whisper, yet Connor’s face lights up across the room.

“No shit! So do I! Hey, I have a spare DS, wanna battle me?” Evan blinks in surprise at the sudden shift in Connor’s character, as if someone’s flicked a switch on his back. He wonders how often Connor shows this side of himself, and whether he’ll change in the future to get rid of it fully.

Shaking his head slightly, Evan offers a tentative smile back at Connor. 

“S-sure? But wait, won’t t-they all be your Pok-emon?

Connor flashes a cheeky grin.

“Don’t think you’re up to it?”

Oh, that's it. Connor may be rough and dangerous, but no-one challenges Evan at Pokemon. A genuine grin grows across his face as he snatches up the offered console.

……….

Evan ends up loosing, after Connor’s 11 wins to his 10. He will still argue today that Connor had cheated. Somehow.  
……….

Months pass, and eventually, the boys find themselves looking forward to their weekend lessons more and more with each passing week. Eventually, their sessions turn into every other night, then every night, then just hanging out in Connor’s room. Jared joins them on more than a few occasions, though he complains that they formed their own language together, speaking in song lyrics and inside jokes that no-one else understands. Evan doesn’t mind. Connor has quickly worked himself up to sit at the same best friend title as Jared, and he couldn’t be happier.

And if he sometimes wishes that they were much, much more than friends, well, no-one will know. He keeps the sleepless nights to himself.

The boys grow up together, forming a close-knit trio through the years. Connor holds Evan through his worse days, and Evan repays the favour for him. He holds Connor close as Larry dies, knowing that the boy isn’t crying for the older man, but for the moments lost, the relief and disappointment, words left unsaid and burdens shifted. They mature and grow but much faster than Evan thinks is fair, Connor adopting his father’s forgotten title in an unjust shift of power that makes Evan wish he could take Connor and Jared and run away from their neighbourhood, leaving crime and brutality and gang rivalry behind them. At 18, Connor is far too young to deal with this, and its just not fair. Evan wants out.

……….

The first punch shocks him more than anything, a swinging fist in a dark alley catching him off guard. Connor had tried to teach him self-defence, and Evan wishes now more than anything that he has listened to the boy, as the only thing he can do is curl up in a tight ball as kicks and punches rain down on him, their words and curses somehow hurting more than their bruises. He has no idea which gang they’re from, or how he had managed to miss them, and he doesn’t care. He just needs to get home.

They leave eventually, spitting out cruel insults as they race away from him, down the broken street. Evan allows himself 5 minutes of glorious time lying down on that alley floor (although the time passes like treacle through an hourglass, and he’s not sure if it was 5 minutes or 20) before heaving himself up with a groan, staggering down the gum ridden path. Sounds pierce his eardrums and the world passes by in an amber sea of street lights and stones, and he’s never been more happy to see that Heidi is working night shifts as he limps into the kitchen, keeping the blinding lights switched off. He somehow manages to find the leather sofa in the darkness, sighing as he rests his cheek against the cool material. Just 10 minutes, he promises himself, and promptly passes out.

………..

“Hey, Evan, I brought mountain de- HOLY SHIT”.

Evan groans and burrows into himself at the rude awakening, attempting to block out the sounds and lights attacking him from every angle as he slowly wakes up. He can hear Connor drop to his knees beside him, a smooth hand sifting through his curls a moment later as he moves into the contact, the cold skin feeling like heaven on his heavy scalp.

“Hey, buddy? Ev? What- what happened?” Connor’s voice is quiet, a tender softness Evan knows is reserved for him, a thought that brings a warm feeling to the bottom of his stomach. Oh yeah, his body is a thing. Ouch.

He wants to explain what happened, to give Connor all the details, but all he can get out is a weak, ‘”Hurts”.

“I know, I know buddy. Can you try to remember what happened?” Connors' hand is still soothing and Evan scoots as close to him as possible, his familiar warmth a craved comfort.

“Alley. Night.” Evan squints, the details of last night suddenly escaping from him like petals in the wind. “Homophobes?” 

The hand in his hair abruptly stops and Evan groans at the lack of comfort. Connor curses under his breath and resumes the combing, without hesitation. “Sorry, buddy. Just-just get some rest, yeah? You’ll feel better in the morning, I promise”, Evan can hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll be right here.”

……….

The next time Evan wakes up, it's to a much better scene. The smell of antiseptic and cotton buds wafts through the air, and he can hear Connor softly humming to himself in the kitchen. The curtains are drawn, leaving the room a dim honey brown, and Evan can't help but grin softly, flopping back on the sofa before he can think better of it. The pain suddenly comes back in a wave stronger than any other, and he cries out, hearing a sudden crash from the kitchen.

Connor rushes in a second later, eyes wide and slightly frantic. “Ev?”. His hair is tied up in a wispy bun, and he’s ditched his signature black hoodie for a short-sleeved Pokemon shirt. Oh god, Evan can't even look at him. “Evan?!”

“Yep”, Evan holds up a thumb, cracking an eyelid open and grinning at his friend. “Nice apron”

Connor starts and his head snaps down to his pink, frilly apron, and Evan can see his cherry blush spread over his face. It's aggravatingly endearing, and makes Evan bury his face in his mom’s cotton cushions to hide his fond smile. The sofa caves inwards slightly as Connor sits down next to him, rubbing his back in a way he hasn’t done since they were just kids, terrified of the world. Evan flips around to face him with furrowed brows.  
“Hey, you okay?” Connor looks at him like he can't quite believe him, brown eyes wide.

“You’re asking me that? You’re the one half beaten to death!” Evan winces at the loud tone, and Connor sighs, speaking in softer tones.

“I’m just…. Ev, you can’t do this.” Oh no. This was it. Connor hated him, he didn’t want to be friends, Evan was a burden and Connor never wanted to see him again, all this time Connor was just being poli-, “I-I like you too much for you to get hurt”.

Oh. Oh.

Evan sits up ramrod straight, facing the back of Connor's hoodie where the other boy has turned himself around, hiding his face from Evan. He lifts a tentative hand, not sure if he should comfort the other boy or leave him alone.

“It's okay! I- I like you too!”, Evan blurts, his hand still wavering awkwardly in mid-air. “A- a lot, actually!”

Before he can begin to curse himself for how utterly lame that sounded, Connor has already whipped around, his eyes wide and vulnerable.

“Like….like like?” His voice is quiet and cautious, barely a whisper in the cool morning. It's now or never, Evan supposes.

“Yeah”, he confesses hanging his head. “Uh- d-do you?”

“Like, like you?” Evan nods, and Connor blushes stronger and turns away. “For a while now.”

“U-uh. Cool.”

“Cool.”

“Um. Do y-you mind if I?”

“No! I mean! No, I don't mind. At all.”

 

Their first kiss is short and sweet, barely a peck on the lips before they’re both pulling away, wide grins stretching across their faces. Evan’s head is swimming, and his ribs are aching and the distant thrum of cars from outside is causing his ears to ring slightly, but he can't imagine a better first kiss. Besides, none of that seems to matter before they’re leaning in for their second kiss, much less clumsily this time, their lips slotting together perfectly like a key in a lock. And in this moment, with hazy shouting from outside, the smell of bacteria wipes invading their nostrils and Evan’s knotted hair curling around Connor’s calloused hand, everything is perfect.

……….

And if two certain individuals mysteriously disappear only to return later in a body bag, clothes bloodied and skin bruised and punctured, well, Connor can neither confirm or deny his innocence.

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to make the confession as awkward as humanly possible and snuck in way too many pokemon references. I hope you liked it!


End file.
